


"Forever"

by IrkenCupcakes13



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Like, ambiguos timeline, and hes a good friend, basically my inquisitors backstory, but varrics cool, granted the bianca story though, in my head varric and neranna are really good friends, its sad, slight angst, that'll never be told, they tell eachother everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrkenCupcakes13/pseuds/IrkenCupcakes13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neranna tells a tale from her past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Forever"

“Hey, Daggers, did you hear me?”

Naranna was shaken from her thoughts as Varric waved a hand in front of her face. “Hm? Oh, sorry. What did you say?”

Naranna sat in her and Varric’s shared tent in one of the Inquisition’s camps in the Hinterlands, nursing an ale that’s been more than half filled for far too long. She was drifting in and out of her thoughts, only catching snippets of the tale Varric was telling.

“I was telling you about the time me and Rivaini where in a bar fight with a prostitute and two beggars. Quite the tale. If only you were here to hear it.” Varric was speaking into his mug for the last sentence, taking a long swig from it when he was done talking.

“Sorry, just some thoughts that won’t leave.” Naranna set her ale down next to her and fell back on to her bed, throwing her hands over her eyes and dragging down, stretching the skin around her eyes.

“Sovereign for your thoughts?” Varric asked, watching the other dwarf run her fingers through her long red hair.

Naranna stared at the tent’s brown ceiling for a moment, unsure if she wanted to share.

“You don’t have to unless you want to.” Varric took another sip of his ale, waiting patiently for an answer.

“You remind me of my brother.” She said after a moment of silence.

“Sounds like a wonderful man.” Varric smirked, though he dropped it quickly after sensing the tension.

“Yeah, he was. Very strange, but a good kind of strange. Y’know?” Naranna returned her gaze to the roof. A small, sad smile stretched across her face.

“Ah, I see. You don’t have to continue if it’s too much.” Varric reached over and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“It’s fine. You’ve told so many stories. It’s about time I shared one if my own.” Naranna sat up again, giving Varric a more sincere smile.

“Okay then Daggers. I’m all ears.” Varric leaned back against his pack, gesturing for her to continue.

“Thanks.” Naranna took a deep breath to settle her nerves. “My brother loved to draw. Whether it was on paper or rock or with charcoal or paint. Anything, anywhere. He was entranced by all things artistic, honestly. When we were just small little Carta children we had gone with our uncle and his group on a simple grab and run. We were supposed to just stay behind them and watch as they took some stuff from a stuck up noble from Ostwick who probably didn’t even notice they were gone. But Enrick had gotten distracted by some art tools he had found in the study, which we had already moved on from. Me, being the older sister, had to get his ass back in check. So, when I had gone back into the study to grab him, there he was sitting on the floor and drawing a mule on the wall with some fancy colored wax sticks and almost no realization that we had to keep moving. I tried to move him but he would just jerk himself away and continue where he had left off. No matter how much I tried to move his stubborn ass he just stayed. While I was trying to move him away from the wall a loud shrill yell came from the door behind us. I guess while we were distracted the comtesse had returned from her wild night of partying. The old bat had decided that her pretty little dawnstone encrusted cane was her best form of defense and started swinging wildly at us. She managed to land a few good hits on us, giving me a split lip and him a bump on his head the size of a hart’s hoof. We booked it out and eventually found our uncle looking for us in one of the guest rooms. But, Maker knows the kid did not learn his lesson. The next estate had a, quite realistic might I add, drawing of the lords daughter on the back of a map he found rolled up on the desk. Didn’t get caught that time though. I’m honestly surprised he lived as long as he did.” Naranna gave a humorless chuckle and looked down at her hands.

“He died young, at about 20. Thankfully it wasn’t the art that got him killed. He was just never good at checking his surroundings. We were on one of our first legitimate missions. We were looking for some of our stolen merchandise. Ex-Templar stole crates of raw lyrium from one of our traders. Enrick was trained in archery, I was always more of a cloak and dagger kind of gal. I had always tried to get him to at least learn how to throw a decent punch but he never was a confrontational guy. Maker damned, I tried.” Naranna took a moment to breath, rubbing at her eyes which were stinging with tears. “Turns out the Templar was still home and I was in the other fucking room. I told Enrick to watch his back. It was supposed to be a simple retrieval. But he couldn’t pull his bow fast enough. He screamed, I ran in just in time to see a sword halfway through his chest. I threw my dagger at the fuckers face the second he saw me. I still can’t believe how much blood Enrick had in him. Fucking unbelievable.” Naranna chocked on her last words.

“Sorry didn’t mean to get so emotional. I just… fuck.” Naranna rubbed her face with her hands, tears falling down her cheeks as she tried to get herself together.

“It’s alright, Daggers. Everyone’s got a story. I’m sorry yours is this one though.” Varric had sat down next to her during her story, and now he was gently rubbing her back to console her.

Naranna looked down at her hands and chuckled softly. “Forgot about the face paint.” She mumbled, showing Varric her hands, which were stained green from the lines on her face.

“You look like you’re sick.” Varric laughed at the state of her face, the green which was originally in two neat lines under and between her eyes are now smudged across her forehead and cheeks.

“Shut up and get me something to wipe this off with.” She shoved Varric lightly, smiling as he grabbed a spare cloth out of his bag and tossed it to Naranna.

She wiped her face off as best as she could, occasionally asking Varric if she was done.

“I still have his bow. Never knew what to do with it so I just started learning how to use it.” She pointed at the bow leaning against the tents wall.

“I knew that that one had a story. Mind if I get a better look?” Varric gestured to the weapon. Naranna nodded and continued to scrub at her face.

Varric gave a low whistle as he looked at the weapon. It was covered in carvings and engravings. Too many to count. “Do you know what they mean?”

“He said that they mean nothing and everything. The swirls up top could be wind on a sunny day or just plain old swirls. He was really into the meaningful things though. Like those two circles locked together are supposed to represent me and him.” Naranna gently traced the circles with her fingers. “Stuck together, forever.” She read the caption engraved under it aloud, allowing a bittersweet smile to display itself on her face. “I call it Enrick. Closest thing I have to him.

Varric gently placed the bow back in its original spot and gave Naranna a small yet comforting smile.

“Does this mean I can hear Bianca’s story?” Naranna raised an eyebrow in question, smiling coyly as well.

“Nice try, Herald. How about we fill up our mugs again?” Varric laughed as he picked up their mugs and left the tent, Naranna running out behind him.

“C’mon! Such a wonderful machine has to have a magnificent story!” She pleaded, grabbing his arm, though not tight enough to stop him.

“It is, actually. Still not telling it though!” He smiled as he reached the fire in the middle of the camp, where they had left the ale earlier.

“You’re no fun.” She pouted as she followed him back to the tent.

“That’s where you’re mistaken, Daggers. Half the fun is the guessing!” Varric smirked, topping off their mugs.

“You’re an ass.”

“It’s part of my charm.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really love Naranna. Why must I hurt my smol child so?
> 
> Kudos, comments, and critiques are always welcome! Thanks for reading!
> 
> This is un-beta'd so if there are any mistakes, let me know!


End file.
